Memory Like A Steel Trap Novels & Stories

he said seriously. “You’re lying! He’s been nothing but wonderful to me,” I insisted. He leaned against his desk and tapped on the wood with his nails, “really? So, you don’t notice anything off about him? About your memories?” I stood, mouth agape, “how could you know that?” He nodded, “he’s compelled you. It’s obvious to those around you. Did he ever mention something like how you can’t trust anyone but him? That those around you will try to lie to you?”

"Don't worry, Dad. No one will be able to bully me again." After hanging up, I slipped my phone into my pocket. At an internet cafe by the road, several seniors were panicking in front of their screens. Behind me, a scrap collector's tricycle rattled past, its loudspeaker looping an advertisement. "Buying old computers, old phones, scrap copper, scrap metal." The sound of the scrap cart slowly faded. The stone that had pressed on my heart for two lifetimes finally fell away. The summer heat scattered the shadow of my miserable death in the last life.

I said starting to wobble my way to the bathroom in my soon to be office. "Not that bathroom." Margaret said pointing towards the half bath by the kitchen. "That one." She said ushering me away from the one place in the house that I knew had a hidden panic room. "Fine." I said entering the bathroom. "There is barely room in here for me, are planning on sitting on my lap well I pee." I said starting to pull my pants down. "No, just leave the door open." She said staring on as I tried my hardest to pee. I really didn't have to go, but knowing how often I go, I was hoping that I would end up going. I waiting a few minutes and got back up from the toilet slowly. "False alarm I guess, I get a lot

Back in my student days, I often came here with my roommates for late-night snacks. Now, the place had been completely renovated, freshly painted, and eerily quiet—nothing like the lively hangout it once was. Under the dim glow of the streetlights, our shadows intertwined as we walked. He glanced around casually, his tone nonchalant. "There used to be a stall here that sold potato chips. The taste was alright, but the owner was stingy. The portions kept shrinking while the prices kept rising." I froze. Had York studied here, too? But I had never heard of anyone like him around campus.

I chuckled lightly and looked over at him, noticing how his hand had tightened around the steering wheel. “I want freedom, I want to be able to do normal things and you know what's funny?” I paused and smiled. “Most times I don't even remember what I stole or where I kept it. Sometimes when I'm in that…trance, I don't even remember shit when I come back to reality, it's a shitty way to live life” I said with a light chuckle. “I'm a walking time bomb no matter how we deny it” I relaxed into the chair, knowing that he was glancing at me.

I- well, thinking. It is all I can do now, now when I'm so down that the cold floor beneath my feet feels soft. The scar on my stomach will always, in some way or another, tie me to him. It's a constant reminder, a tangible inscription etched onto my flesh. I chuckled darkly, the sound devoid of humor. How quickly shock morphed into a thrill, a twisted sense of pride witnessing his ruthless takeover. But that thrill, like the memory itself, is slowly fading, leaving behind only a bitter aftertaste and the ever-present mark of his presence.

And closed it with a sigh. “Did you not want to read anything?” Tristan asked me puzzled. I smiled at him, feeling my lip crack a little as I did “I did.” I saw the confusion on his face and giggled “I have a photographic memory. I can recall information at any time just by looking at it. Kind of like pulling out a photograph to look at whenever you want to. I retain facts and conversations and recall them easily.” His mouth formed an ‘O’ as he processed the information.

I roll my eyes and leave. I get outside and meet him standing beside his black sub. His hands are in his pockets. To be honest, any girl would’ve died to be in my shoes. If he hadn't rejected me, I would have been so lucky to have him. I can't say I don't love Jordan anymore. He is my first love, and I don’t think I can ever forget that. He has most of my memories. He was with me when I did all my firsts....except sex, of course. "Yeah, we know he is hot," my wolf, “Penny,” says.

“I’m so sorry for your loss. I understand what you feel completely.” “Thank you.” “Does it ever get any better?” He asked. “People say that time heals all wounds. Is it true?” “The wounds never really heal. And in the small chance that they do, there will always be a scar. Losing someone is like losing a part of yourself that you can never take back.” What the fuck am I saying? I was supposed to make him feel better, not make him feel worse. But I can’t lie to him. Even after ten years, I miss my parents dearly. Her death did not make things easier for me as well. It’s like the pain just keeps on adding up until I explode. “Sometimes you think that you’ve moved on, only to realize that you h

**** ~ Flashback ~ Before heading to the library, Evelina and Rissa are on their way to the opposite end of the class to the library. Evelina walks and she stops from her path, she just remembers that there was something she forgot. Seeing Evelina's reaction stop, Rissa asks her. "Eve, what's wrong? Is there anything you left in the classroom?" "No, I forgot something. That actually, I wanted to return the book in the library," she replied.